


Creative Commentary

by everlovingdeer



Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [151]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, Nervousness, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22373224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everlovingdeer/pseuds/everlovingdeer
Summary: I took Moriah’s not so subtle prompting. “Why are you asking about the Quidditch match?”“No reason,” he assured me with a laugh that only made it sound even more like a lie. Jordan was already backing away, calling out for me to, “Pay attention to the commentary.”
Relationships: Lee Jordan/Original Female Character(s), Lee Jordan/Reader
Series: Harry Potter Short Stories [151]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1461751
Kudos: 67





	1. Creative Commentary

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to other sites on 15/09/19 and it's been edited slightly before being posted onto here

When the older students told us that OWLs were going to kill us, I thought they were lying. Helga, we’d all thought they were lying. They really hadn’t been lying. The workload was definitely much higher than I’d anticipated and if this was what O.W.L.s was like, what the hell would N.E.W.T.s going to be like? Shaking away the thought, I folded up the essay Snape had returned to me and pushed it into the bottom of my schoolbag.

Adjusting it on my shoulder as we walked out of the Potions lab, I tuned into the conversation that Moriah and Aspen were having.

“Could you believe it?” Aspen asked incredulously, turning towards me and realising that I hadn’t been paying attention, she shook her head good-naturedly. “I’m not even surprised, Thomas.”

“Sorry,” I said with a sheepish smile.

“We’re talking about how Diggory almost burnt down the common room,” Moriah filled me in, peering around Aspen in time to catch my sigh. “How many times is he going to set the common room on fire because of a stupid dare?”

“He’s a bloody adrenaline junky,” Aspen agreed.

“Imagine how I feel,” I grumbled as we turned onto the main corridor, “I’m the bloody prefect that somehow always ends up doing rounds with him. One of these days, I swear he’s going to get into a fight with Peeves and I’m going to get caught in the crossfire.”

Moriah and Aspen shared a look, bursting into laughter at even the image of it. Making a face, I let them continue to rib me about the _sheer torture it must be to have to do rounds with the school golden boy – oh the injustice_.

“If _you_ were one of the ones about to be targeted by Peeves, then you’d know how I feel.”

“Who’s being targeted by Peeves?” the question, asked by a male voice was so startling that I actually stopped in my step.

Glancing to my left, I looked in surprise at Jordan who, last I’d paid any attention to him, had been leaving the Potions classroom behind us with the Weasley twins trailing alongside him. Sure enough, when I cast a glance backwards, I found a pair of _very_ amused Weasley twins dawdling towards us. When they were so obviously amused, something was up. Or about to explode.

“Well?” Jordan repeated as we manoeuvred silently to the side of the hallway so as not to start a traffic jam in an already crowded common room. “Who’s being targeted by Peeves?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business?” Aspen piped up; eyes narrowed. She was all too aware of what happened whenever the Weasley twins and Jordan looked so pleased with themselves. The last time they’d set off a dung bomb to get back at the Slytherins, she’d been caught in the crossfire.

“We’re going to be late,” Moriah pointed out with a concerned look at her watch.

And that was enough to prompt us once more. Beginning to walk once more, we prepared to run towards the greenhouse – no Puff wanted to the late to Herbology. Not when the teacher was the head of our house.

It seemed that our moving kicked the Weasley twins back into overdrive as they pushed Jordan teasingly towards us. Humble Helga, if we _were_ the latest targets, then I wanted to run as far as we could – I didn’t even know what we’d done to deserve this retribution in the first place.

Jordan, flipping his friends off, approached us once more with a promise not to keep us long, smiled _breathtakingly_ at me as we finally conceded. Taking one more defensive glance towards the Weasley twins who were a metre or so away from us and gossiping like middle-aged women, I gave Jordan my full attention.

“Was there something you needed?” I prompted when Moriah, after one look towards her watch, nudged me pointedly. Merlin, this was hardly _my_ fault that he was speaking to me. Even then, he wasn’t speaking to just me!

“There’s a match on tomorrow,” Jordan said with a smile, rocking back on his heels for a moment. “Are you planning on going?”

“It’s Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw,” I started slowly, not quite understanding and not appreciating yet _another_ elbow in the side from Moriah. “So probably, yeah.”

“Especially since you’ve got something riding on the game,” Aspen teased, ignoring the look I gave her.

Jordan’s smile only widened, “Never took you for a gambler, Thomas.”

“It’s not money,” I defended, smiling despite myself at the fact that Jordan sounded a little charmed by the idea that I wasn’t the bookish Puff most people thought I was. “I bet Diggory that if he didn’t catch the snitch, someone else has to do rounds with him.”

“So, someone else can get attacked by Peeves,” he surmised, and I _swore_ his eyes twinkled a little as I laughed quietly.

“Is there a reason we’re still here?” Moriah asked abruptly and Jordan startled for a moment as if only remembering that I was standing with my friends.

“Sorry, Toller.” He didn’t sound very sorry at all.

I took Moriah’s not so subtle prompting. “Why are you asking about the Quidditch match?”

“No reason,” he assured me with a laugh that only made it sound even more like a lie. Jordan was already backing away, calling out for me to, “Pay attention to the commentary.”

“The commentary?” I questioned but he was already returning to his friends. And before I could ask something else, Moriah took my hand and was drawing me away.

“We’re going to be late,” she complained, looking at her damned watch again. “And all because you were flirting with a pair of beautiful eyes.”

Falling into step beside Moriah as we started to practically _run_ towards the greenhouses, I contemplated slinging my schoolbag at her. Instead, I narrowed my eyes as I insisted, “That was _not_ flirting!”

“No, it wasn’t _good_ flirting,” Aspen teased. When I attempted to sling my school bag at _her_ she dodged it effortlessly.

* * *

My curiosity got the better of me. It was the reason why, despite the absolutely horrendous downpour, I was in the stands and waiting for the Quidditch game to begin. Usually, when it came to bad weather during a match, I wouldn’t bother to attend it and would instead hideout in the warmth of the common room which was unusually empty, curling up beside the fireplace with some hot chocolate (smuggled from the kitchens) and a book. But my curiosity was enough of a reason for me to put on my coat, cast a rain repelling charm on my clothes and make my way down to the pitch.

Teeth chattering slightly against the cold, I cast a warming spell on myself and slumped against Aspen’s side as we waited for the game to officially begin. The two teams were speaking to Madam Hooch, no doubt agreeing to play fair. Most people were watching the teams with excitement or speaking between themselves but I couldn’t help my eyes flickering toward the teacher’s stand. Or rather, towards the Gryffindor seated in the teacher’s stands.

“Aspen,” I called out quietly, head still on her shoulder. She hummed contemplatively, resting her own head on top of mine for a moment, “what is you think Jordan was talking about when he mentioned paying attention to the commentary?”

“Clearly he was trying to flirt with you,” she pointed out and I could _hear_ her rolling her eyes. “Only Helga knows what he’s planning on doing during this quidditch match.”

“You don’t –” I sat up quickly, looking towards her with horrified eyes. “Surely you don’t think that he’s going to _do_ something during this match, do you?”

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t.” She shrugged as if I wasn’t facing potentially the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen to me.

“ _Aspen!”_

“He’s best friends with the Weasley twins.” Perhaps that explained it all. “If you didn’t want to embarrass, you shouldn’t have turned up. You should have stayed with Moriah in the dorm.”

“She went to bed at 3 am because Snape annihilated her essay.” I shook my head, watching as the game finally began, “All she’s doing now is sleeping.”

“Well, would you rather be bored? Or embarrassed?”

“You’re no use,” I despaired.

However, all my attention shifted back towards the game as the players took towards the skies. The longer the game progressed, the less I found myself concentrating on the commentary. Despite it being the reason why I’d even come down to watch this game in the first place. In fact, my eyes focused more on Diggory and the damned snitch which kept disappearing away from my eyes. There was no way I was going to do the rounds with him if I didn’t have to, and I certainly wasn’t going to act as his food lackey. I was _not_ going to sneak into the kitchens at his every whim. Helga, I hoped he didn’t catch the snitch – just as long as Hufflepuff still won the game.

My eyes trailed after Diggory, hands clasped together as I leaned forward in my seat, to keep an eye on him. He had a hand outstretched, and borrowing Aspen’s binoculars, I could see the snitch flying just barely out of his grasp.

“Please,” I begged under my breath. If he managed to catch the snitch, he’d be _insufferable._ “Please.”

“THOMAS!” The sudden call of a surname – my surname coming from the commentator’s microphone had not just the players, but the spectators startling.

The snitch thankfully flew away from Cedric’s hand, but everyone with the surname Thomas – and with the _first name_ Thomas, looked towards Jordan. And I knew, due to yesterday’s events, that he was referring to me.

Like he thought I wasn’t paying him enough attention, Jordan called out my full name. Half the crowd swung their focus to me. As the apprehension swirled inside me, I reached out to take a quietly laughing Aspen’s hands in mine. This was _far_ more embarrassing than I had anticipated. My eyes lingered on Jordan and I regretted sitting in a stand so close to him that I could actually _see_ the large grin on his face as he evaded Professor McGonagall’s reaching hands with practised ease.

“I just wanted to make sure that you were paying attention to me,” he spoke into the microphone, laughing at the chatter his words cause. This had to be the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me and I was contemplating finding Jordan and hexing the living daylights out of him. And then he went and just had to make it so much worse. “Well, who wouldn’t want a pretty girl’s attention on them?”

Aspen – damn her – laughed as if it was the funniest thing that had ever happened to her and I groaned quietly, wanting nothing more than to hide behind someone. Where was Hagrid when you needed him? Horrified, I continued to watch as Professor McGonagall attempted to physically wrestle the mic off of him.

“ – focus on the game, Jordan,” she ordered sharply, managing to wrench the mic for only a second before it was snatched back.

“How can you expect me to focus on the game when Thomas is _right there_?”

“Helga save him,” I groaned into my hands, “I am going to kill him the next time he approaches me.”

* * *

Less than a day on from the match, and I was already tired of batting away comments caused by Jordan’s actions. Aspen and Moriah, true to their Hufflepuff roots were the most loyal friends on the planet, sticking to my side and helping me get through the barrage of words. It had begun the moment I left the common room to begin the day. No one in the Hufflepuff basement was so annoying to say anything to me – to my face at least. Of course, those that _did_ have something to say spoke their minds behind my back, which just wasn’t very Hufflepuff of them.

But to make my embarrassment worse, I struggled in those situations. I simply couldn’t say anything to people’s face and I certainly couldn’t deal with the conflict that kept presenting itself before me. All I could do was complain to my friends who rapidly grew sick of it all. Whilst I was simply unable to tell people to piss off, they had no such qualms.

“Thomas!” the unwelcome call of my surname had me physically groaning aloud as I stopped on my way into the Charms classroom. Really, I could have just walked into the classroom and left the person calling me behind but, by the time I’d realised this, it was already too late.

“Let’s just go inside,” Moriah insisted, trying to get me to follow her into the classroom and I was so tempted to follow after her. In fact, I _did_ try to follow her and whoever had been trying to get my attention, noticed this and intercepted us.

It took me a moment to recognise the Ravenclaw in front of us. But I did, recognise her, realising that we’d shared a round before. Moore stood in front of me, and from the smile on her face, I knew she was attempting to pick a fight. This was too bloody much.

“Thomas,” she started again, voice so saccharine sweet that I did my best not to make a face. “How long have you been fooling around with Jordan?”

“Excuse me?” I asked incredulously, brows shooting upwards.

“I mean, surely you’ve been fooling around for a while in order for him to make such a scene at a quidditch match,” she reasoned. I narrowed my eyes, trying not to react to the insinuation. And anyway, why was this her business at all? “Well?”

“Listen, Moore,” Moriah snapped, actually taking my hand and drawing me with her towards the Charms classroom, “you’re pissed off just because no one wants to make such a big scene for you? How is that anyone’s fault?”

And with that, Moriah fully pulled me into the classroom and left Moore lingering far behind. It took a moment longer than I would have liked, but after listening to Moriah grumble under her breath, all the incredulity, the anger I’d felt disappeared. I simply couldn’t help but smile as we took our seats.

“You need to start speaking up for yourself,” she grumbled, rifling through her schoolbag as I drew out my textbook.

Flicking through the textbook, I wondered aloud, “What was so wrong with Moore anyway?”

“She fancies the pants off of Jordan,” Aspen confessed as if it was no secret. I shot her a surprised look, “Yeah – it’s no secret. Most people know it. Jordan probably knows it as well. I’m surprised _you_ don’t know it.”

“That’s just because I don’t put my nose in other people’s business.”

“You don’t do a lot of things.” Moriah despairingly shook her head, “If you said something to these people, they wouldn’t think that they could get in your face about this rubbish.”

“If this is anyone’s fault, this is Jordan’s,” Aspen confessed with a shake of her head.

“She has a point,” I grumbled, contemplating stabbing my quill through my parchment. “I’m going to hex him the next time I see him.”

“You can’t even stick up for yourself, how are you going to hex anyone?”

Ignoring their words, I faced the front of the classroom as Professor Flitwick started the lesson. I tried my best to pay attention to him, I really did but my thoughts sunk back towards the events of the Quidditch match. The people around me might have been waiting to hear just what he was going to say at the next match, but I was certain that he wouldn’t be saying anything. He wouldn’t. It was just a one-time thing meant to embarrass me. And if it _had_ been because he wanted to get a certain reaction from me, surely upon realising that I hadn’t given him the reaction he wanted, he’d quit whilst he was ahead. Surely?

* * *

Cedric, the pain in the arse, took extreme pleasure in reminding me that not only had he caught the snitch – but him catching the snitch had ensured our win. He’d pointed out that not only was I his food lackey, but we still had rounds to share. One of the rounds was coming up tonight and I really wasn’t looking forward to it because I _knew_ he was going to be even more of a pain than usual. I could already feel the headache forming and _because_ I knew that following on from our rounds, all I’d want to do was sleep, I’d taken to the library. I planned on utilising my time to complete a hand-finished essay that I simply wouldn’t have the mind or heart to finish it when I returned to the common room.

Only… it was a pain and a half to finish.

It was less than a couple of months into fifth year and I was certain that I wouldn’t be taking Care of Magical Creatures wasn’t a subject I’d been taking for NEWTs. Not if I wanted my sanity. Struggling and looking for a reference, I gave up and knew that I’d needed to bring yet another textbook over towards my already crowded table.

Leaving my things on the table, I headed straight towards the Care of Magical Creatures section and searched through the list of titles in order to find one that would help me about my essay on Porlock’s. Sure the creature wasn’t as interesting as a Thestral or a Hippogriff, but why was there such little information on them? Sighing, I pulled a random book from the shelves and flicked to the contents page to see if it would be of any use.

“Thomas,” the whispered call of my name, coming from right beside me startled me enough that the book almost fell from my hand. Thankfully, I caught it safely and cradled it in my arms; the last thing I needed was for Pince to get on my case.

When I managed to steady my heart, I turned around and was unsurprised to find Jordan standing expectantly behind me. He stood, looking the picture of innocence, with a lazy grin on his face. Maybe Aspen was right; despite all of my murmurings that I would hex Jordan the next time he approached me, I certainly didn’t feel the need to reach for my wand.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, replacing the textbook back on the shelves. It certainly wasn’t going to help me with my essay.

“I saw you and had something I needed to ask you.”

And Helga, the way he’d said it, made it sound like an invitation for trouble. But like an idiot, I asked anyway, “What?”

“Aren’t you curious about what I’m going to say at the match this weekend?”

Narrowing my eyes, I demanded abruptly, “What are you doing this for?”

“I don’t,” he cut himself off abruptly. Considering me with furrowed brows, he finally said, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You don’t understand?” I repeated, caught off guard. “I’m asking you why you’re doing this and especially to me?”

He still didn’t comprehend what I was saying. “Doing what?”

“Why are you embarrassing me like this?” I asked abruptly, not having the patience for his continued lack of comprehension. I certainly didn’t have the time for it either; I needed to finish my essay before my rounds.

The smile was wiped from his face. Jordan took a faltering step back, for the first time seeming as his confidence had faded properly. Especially the way he absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over the knuckle of his index finger. “You don’t – you don’t like it?”

“Of _course_ I don’t like it!” Watching him incredulously, I tried not to wonder how he could possibly think that I would like it. “I’m already reserved and if you’re putting on a show like that, it’s not going to make me embarrassed beyond belief. And all the whispered words that have been following me around since – they’re unbearable.”

Jordan, as if only just realising it was possible for me to not like or appreciate what he had done, lowered his head slightly. I swore I could see him frowning but, by the time he lifted his head again, he was smiling as if to make it seem as if he had never been upset in the first place. And suddenly, seeing that fake smile on his face had me feeling much worse than I would’ve felt if I’d hexed him. Of that I was certain. I continued to watch him uncertainly, wanting to take my words back, to not have caused him hurt in any way. But the fact remained, it was the truth and I couldn’t take back the truth.

“I’m sorry,” Jordan finally said, sounding so sincere that I was lost for words. He offered me a hesitant smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “I’m sorry Thomas, I didn’t think that you might not have liked what I did. I just thought –”

This time when he cut himself off, I couldn’t help but prompt very quietly, “That what?”

His eyes left mine then as if he couldn’t say what he wanted to say whilst looking into my eyes. “It’s stupid but I thought it was the best way for me to express an interest in you because it’s something as natural as breathing to me. I didn’t even think about whether it was natural for you. I just thought you’d want to go on a date or something.”

And then he left. Just like that. He turned and walked away, leaving me lingering and recovering from the abruptness of his confession. How was I supposed to just recover from that?

I certainly didn’t recover from it; and Cedric later pointed out that because I wasn’t reacting to all his diva-ness, I was a boring rounds partner. Helga, I didn’t dare tell him about the way my heart was threatening to burst out of my ribcage because of Lee Jordan.

* * *

Had Jordan intended for his wounds to linger in my head? Was that another way of him endearing himself to me? Did he even need to endear himself to me? Because how could you endear yourself to someone who was already endeared to you? Shaking my head, I dropped it into my hands as I sat in Transfiguration class. Even now, as I thought back to our conversation in the library, I could feel my cheeks burning. I was so bad at hiding my reaction that even now, I brought my hands to my cheeks to cool them down.

Last night, I certainly hadn’t managed to hide my reaction, either. As soon as I got back to the common room, or tried to hide in our dorm, my friends already knew that something was wrong. They’d cornered me and pulled the information out of me within the space of five minutes and proceeded to tease me so much that I contemplated finding new friends. Especially given the way they’d caused a ruckus when the Jordan had walked into the room trailed by the Weasley twins.

Sighing again, I rubbed a hand over my face. Apparently, it was enough of a distraction for Moriah who glanced curiously towards me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, brows furrowed and her quill momentarily stilling on her parchment.

It made me look to my own parchment – realising it was empty. I’d have to borrow her notes at the end of the day because there was no way in hell that I was going to be able to concentrate on what little time remained.

“It’s nothing.” Although she didn’t believe me, she knew that I wasn’t going to tell her anything – definitely not in the middle of Transfiguration – so she turned her attention once more to the lesson.

And because I knew I wouldn’t be able to pay attention, I let my mind wander. Or more truthfully, I let my mind wander to the conversation the Gryffindors behind me were having. The two girls clearly were struggling to pay attention to the lesson as well and were instead having their own quiet conversation. It was only a miracle that McGonagall hadn’t caught them out yet.

Apparently, the Weasley twins and Jordan had been caught one too many times pulling a prank that they shouldn’t have. And _apparently_ , because McGonagall had been the one to catch them too many times, she had them benched. The Gryffindor team, despite facing an upcoming game, had to play their reserve beaters and it seemed like there would be no commentator at the game. Tuning out of the conversation, I looked across towards the other side of the classroom towards the three Gryffindors sitting together. Maybe it said something about me, that they all had no problem with paying attention?

My eyes slipped straight past the Weasley twins towards Jordan who was busy making notes about what McGonagall was saying. I studied him for a moment, wanting nothing more than to talk to him. But to have him approach me first because the whole idea of being the first to make a move – even the thought of that was terrifying.

Unless I didn’t really have to approach him –

But surely _that_ would be even more embarrassing … then again, like he’d said, it was natural for him so maybe it didn’t have to be quite so

The ringing of the bell signalled the end of the lesson and with it, it brought a resounding end to my thoughts. Sighing once more, I gathered my things and prepared to leave the classroom. Except, I lingered for a moment, promising my friends that I would meet them at the common room and they rather reluctantly left me alone. I watched as everyone slowly filed out of the classroom until I was one of the very few that remained. My eyes lingered on Professor McGonagall who was working on something but the only time my eyes really shifted was spying Jordan as he walked past McGonagall’s desk. He met my eyes briefly, before hurriedly looking away as he continued on his way out. That summed it up – I needed to do this, regardless of just how embarrassing this could potentially be for me.

Professor McGonagall finally looked up, expecting to find an empty classroom. But, seeing me standing there, she took a moment’s pause. “Miss Thomas, is there something I can help you with?”

“Um, yes.” Clearing my throat, I grabbed my bag and approached the front desk. I was tempted to linger, to hesitate and think it over once more but the pointed way she was watching me had me thinking again. “I heard that Lee Jordan wouldn’t be doing the commentary tomorrow during the game. Is that true?”

“Rest assured,” she began with a smile, taking her glasses off and placing them beside her quill on the desk, “Mr Jordan will not be commentating tomorrow. It is one game at least where you can relax.”

Professor McGonagall watched me for a moment, likely thinking that it would be the end of the problem, that I wouldn’t have to worry tomorrow. She clearly thought that he was bothering me. Merlin, _I’d_ thought that he was harassing me. Except he wasn’t. Well, he was causing me some embarrassment but still … it was a difficult situation to explain without bringing more embarrassment to myself.

“Actually, Professor,” I started hesitantly, double thinking once more, “I was wondering if I could do it instead?”

“Do what?” She clearly doubted her ears because of the uncharacteristic offer. “The commentary? Are you sure?”

“Yes.” _No._

“Miss Thomas-”

“Even if it’s only for 10 minutes,” I started hastily, “even if it’s only for 10 minutes, - or, or 5 – I’d like to do the commentary. If I’m utterly rubbish at it, then you can stop me.”

“If that’s really what you want.” She still didn’t sound convinced but before she could give me the chance to back out once more – a chance I would likely take – I thanked Professor McGonagall and rushed out of the classroom.

On the entire way to the common room, I silently berated myself for making such a big task, for such a large opportunity to embarrass the hell out of myself. And my friends, friends I’d expected to back me up (even if I’d made a downright _idiotic_ decision) almost pissed themselves laughing when I told them.

* * *

When the next morning came, after a night of next to no sleep, I struggled still to try and come to terms with the absolutely stupid decision that I had made. And I still had to see it through with the match soon to begin. I continued to rationalise it, that it was only 5 or 10 minutes because Professor McGonagall would save me from embarrassing myself too much. That was the shining ray of hope that I had for it all; that I wouldn’t make too much of a fool of myself.

But even the possibility of being rescued by McGonagall wasn’t enough to make the walk towards the commentator’s spot any easier. The fact that I had to sit beside the teachers as I made a downright fool of myself was horrifying. What was worse, was the dubious way they’d all looked at me when I went to take my seat. No one thought I would be able to do this, I certainly didn’t. I had some pretty big shoes to fill and from the curious glances that were being thrown to where I was seated, a lot of people were wondering just who was taking Jordan’s place. I didn’t need to look towards where I knew my friends were sitting to know that _they_ were watching me with concerned eyes. As much as they had teased me, they were still worried about me.

And Merlin, they were right to be worried given the way I stumbled through the first five minutes. At one point I’d announced that Gryffindor had scored when in fact Slytherin had and I was sure that I’d turned the entire house against me. However, slowly but surely, I found my footing and got better at commentating. My commentary was probably boring compared to Lee’s usual commentary but at least I hadn’t made another blunder like saying the wrong team had scored. Although as I looked at my watch and realised that my 10 minutes was ending, Professor McGonagall was probably still going to take the microphone from me. Most likely because it looked like I was going to faint if I had to do it for the entirety of the match.

It was now or never.

“Jordan!” I called out loudly, voice trembly through the two-syllable name. The crowd started, everyone turning to look at me and I swore, I felt the combined weight of their eyes on me as if it were physical. Especially considering the way McGonagall’s eyes were suddenly rooted to the side of my face, warning me to speak further. So far, she was giving me the benefit of the doubt and I was going to make one of my more favoured Professors so unbearably annoyed. “Lee, do you find this as bloody terrifying as I do right now?”

Naturally, there was no answer and I didn’t dare look towards where I knew he was sitting. Instead, I shuffled along the bench as Professor McGonagall made a move to take the microphone from me. Helga, this had better be worth it. Distantly I heard her warn me that I’d better give the microphone to her and I didn’t want to risk getting more trouble and still, I did –

“That date you were talking about, had better be worth the detention I’m going to get for this.” And with that, turning a deaf ear to the increased whispers, I held the microphone sheepishly out towards Professor McGonagall.

Unimpressed, she pursed her lips and took the microphone from me and the disapproval in her eyes was enough for me to look away from her. Likely already knowing just how bloody terrified and absolutely embarrassed I was at that every moment; she only gave a disappointed call of my name.

Peeking hesitantly up at her from beneath my lashes, I queried, “Detention?”

“Yes.” She looked towards my head of house who I hadn’t even considered right up until that very moment. I risked a glance towards her, expecting to see similar disapproval on her face, but she looked rather amused. Knowing that I had her approval – however begrudging or slight, made it easier to lift my head. “Miss Thomas, you’re going to serve detention with Professor Sprout this weekend. She will give you the details herself.”

“Yes, Professor.”

I continued to sit beside Professor McGonagall in silence, not really paying attention to the game. All I’d wanted, more than anything right now was to run back to the common room in order to avoid the majority of the snide comments that I just knew I’d be getting. And so, when the game did end, I paid no mind to who had won and instead fled down the stairs. I was so focused on getting to the common room that when someone stepped in my way, hindering me already, I was ready to curse. Only when I got a good look at the person who’d stopped me, the curse died on my lips.

Lee stood before me, smiling widely and looking so utterly pleased with himself, that I found myself smiling despite all the looks we were getting. We watched each other for a moment, neither one of us knowing who should speak first. Eventually, I gathered whatever courage I had left.

“You’re a bad influence – Professor McGonagall thinks so.”

“I’m sure she does.” He shrugged, and I didn’t realise it was possible, but his smile grew wider. “But stick around a little longer Thomas and see just how bad of an influence I can be.”


	2. Epilogue: 9 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For someone that had once been caught in the crossfire by an infamous Weasley prank, I’d never expected to actually be _helping_ George Weasley making one of the pranks.

_9 YEARS LATER_

For someone that had once been caught in the crossfire by an infamous Weasley prank, I’d never expected to actually be _helping_ George Weasley making one of the pranks. Of course, I’d expected to become friends with George because he was my husband’s best friend and it simply made sense. It had taken some time, but eventually, I’d gotten used to coming home from work one day and finding George and Lee sitting at our dining table with papers strewn all around them as they worked on some product or other. Never had I thought that _I_ would be the one sitting at the dining table whilst Lee was at work.

Distantly, I turned towards the sound of George calling my name from the other room. Calling back that I’d be there in a minute, I waved a wand at the tray of tea and cakes. It trailed after me as I returned to George’s side and eventually settled gently onto the table. George didn’t look up from the papers he was considering as I took the cups from the tray and put them on the table. Slicing the cake into the pieces, I placed one on a saucer and settled it besides George’s cup.

“George?” I prompted, watching as he released a groan and silently held the papers towards me.

“I don’t know what to do,” he insisted.

With a sigh, he reached for his tea and cake as I settled into my seat. Studying the list of potions ingredients in front of me, I frowned. I thought deeply, wanting to know just why George had thought that I’d be able to help him when I wasn’t a Master Potioneer. I _had_ studied Potions further past school, but still –

Distantly, I heard the fireplace roaring to life as Lee stepped into our home from his busy workday. George greeted his friend and from the sound of approaching footsteps, I already extended a cheek towards Lee so he could kiss me. Still not looking up from the potion, I reached for the Potions ingredient handbook and flicked through it.

“How was work?” I asked absentmindedly, looking through the properties of Erumpent horn.

Lee grunted an answer, and if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with finding the solution to George’s issue, I would have asked him what was wrong. But because this damn potion was insulting my Potioneer’s pride, I didn’t. Instead, I turned towards George. Lee breezed past us, heading into our bedroom to change out of his work clothes.

“What colour is the potion right now?” I asked, “If you make it following this recipe?”

“Purple.” He shook his head, despairing “A bright, attention-catching purple.”

“And you need it to be colourless so it doesn’t catch attention?” I double-checked, looking to George who nodded through a mouthful of cake. “Honestly, I’m not too sure what the issue is with this. If you want, I can ask one of the Potion Masters at work? See what they think is the problem –”

I cut myself off as Lee called my name from our bedroom. Shooting George an apologetic smile, I rose from the table with a promise that I’d be back soon. Walking into the bedroom, I searched for Lee and wondered just what he happened to misplace and needed my help to find. But, when I saw him sitting on the bed, fully changed, it took me by pause.

“Lee?” I asked, walking towards him.

He waited until I was within arms reach and pulled me gently to sit beside him. When he spoke, his words were only partly playful, “Now you have time for me?”

“Are you being jealous?” Incredulously, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Really?”

“You’ve been working on this potion for days.” With a frown, Lee caught my hand and raised it to his lips. “ _Days_.”

“Now you know how I feel.” Struggling not to smile at the way he frowned at my words, I pressed a quick kiss to his nose. When I went to rise to my feet, to return to George, Lee reached out quickly and grabbed my hand. He kept me right beside him. “Really? You do realise that the sooner I help George, the sooner we can spend some time together?”

It seemed the reason wouldn’t work with Lee. Not this time. Instead, he remained adamant and kissed me once more. Slightly annoyed but smiling nonetheless, I kissed him back expecting him to let me up once we were done. He didn’t.

“Lee – ”

“Lee,” George called out hesitantly from the hallway just outside our bedroom. I sprung away from Lee, clearing my throat awkwardly but nonetheless, George continued, “I think I’m going to head home because I don’t think we’ll get much more work done. If you can show one of your colleagues, that’ll be great.”

“I will,” I assured him with a smile, offering to walk George to the fireplace. Shooting Lee, a look from over my shoulder. He didn’t seem ashamed in the slightest given the way he looked so pleased. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised.


End file.
